


The Happy Place

by Crollalanza



Series: The AtsuHina Royalty/Journalist AU series [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied Violence, Journalist AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: "For now, think of somethin’ good, Suna. Somethin’ that makes you happy.”“Happy thoughts? Didn’t think you’d hold much store by that, Atsumu-kun.”“It’s a distraction. Find your happy place. Talk if it helps.”“Too painful,” he wheezed, but he settled into a marginally more comfortable position and closed his eyes. “My happy place is … is …” His mind drifted. Ah, there it is.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: The AtsuHina Royalty/Journalist AU series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190399
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95
Collections: SunaOsa





	The Happy Place

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written for SunaOsa week using the Free prompt on Day 1.  
> I decided to resurrect my Journalist AU story first seen in Hyogo Holiday. It's not necessary to read that first, but you might enjoy it. The basic premise is that Atsumu and Suna are investigative reporters for the Inarizaki Herald (editor Kita-san). This fic has them teaming up for an assignment.

Read Hyogo Holiday [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740986/chapters/59812489)

* * *

Every bump in the road made him want to scream. He gained some semblance of satisfaction from gritting his teeth and gripping the passenger seat instead. His driver, speeding towards the airport, cursed as they hit another pot hole, then glanced sideways.

“Sorry,” Atsumu muttered.

“’M fine,” Suna mumbled. “Just get us there in one piece.” He winced and clutched his chest. “Or two.”

“Sure you don’t want to stop by the hospital.”

Screwing up his eyes, Suna shook his head. “Airport. Let’s get home.”

“I’ll get some stronger painkillers,” Atsumu said.

“Thanks.” Painkillers or a bottle of vodka- he’d take either right now.

“For now…” He swerved to avoid a dog running across the road. “Sorry.”

“You were saying.”

“Uh … yeah … for now, think of somethin’ good, Suna. Somethin’ that makes you happy.”

“Happy thoughts? Didn’t think you’d hold much store by that, Atsumu-kun.”

“It’s a distraction. Find yer happy place. Talk if it helps.”

“Too painful,” he wheezed, but he settled into a marginally more comfortable position and closed his eyes. “My happy place is … is …” His mind drifted. _Ah, there it is._

**_Six months earlier_ **

He hadn’t planned to come along. Certainly the thought of supporting one of Miya’s relatives in a new business venture was not at the top of his social list, but, he’d reasoned, when Miya had corralled most of the newsroom into going, perhaps it would be useful. His editor, Kita Shinsuke, had said he’d attend, and Ginjima had promised to take publicity shots free of charge.

“Why?” Suna asked. “What’s Miya ever done for you, Gin-kun?”

“Uh… Osamu’s cool. I like the guy.”

“So it’s not a favour for Atsumu?” Suna said, seeking to clarify whatever office politics he might have missed.

“Not at all. His food’s good, and he deserves a break.”

“Why do you think Kita-san’s going?”

Ginjima shrugged. “Why not?” He paused, as he squinted across at Suna. “You don’t have to go, but you’ll be missing out. The food is—”

“Good, so you said.” He picked up his jacket and case. “Can I tag along with you?”

“I’m going early, though, before it opens up. I’ll see you there, though.”

After that he reasoned that he’d turn up, show he was willing to socialise, and hopefully corner Kita-san in a mellow mood, while Atsumu was distracted helping his brother, to argue his case for getting assigned to the latest big news story brewing.

But then he’d arrived and things had changed.

Okay, not at first sight. No coup de foudre, but a frisson when the guy had spoken to him.

“Gah, hold that will ya!”

“What? This is a mop!”

Miya Osamu, in a wet black shirt, grinned apologetically. “I’m sorry. I ain’t askin’ you to mop anythin’, just hold it while I get the bucket.” He sighed. “My frickin- brother I tell you!”

Interest piqued, Suna followed him to the kitchen. “This is your brother’s fault?”

“Kinda. He was helpin’.”

“How?”

“I asked him to light the tea lights on the tables. Somehow he managed to set fire to one of the tablecloths, and threw a glass of water over it.”

“And you, by the looks of it,” Suna observed, glancing at Osamu’s soaked shirt. “Must've been a big glass.”

“Ah, no, it weren’t water but vodka, so the whole thing went …”

“Whoosh!”

“And then I threw the bucket of water, soakin’ the pair of us. He got the worst of it and singed eyebrows.”

So far, so good. Suna started to laugh imagining Atsumu’s face and the litany of swear words which must have left his lips.

“D’ya need to speak to ‘Tsumu. Only, he’s upstairs getting’ changed and applyin’ a cold pack to his forehead.”

“Uh, no.”

“Right, give me the mop, and … help yourself to a drink.” He started to whistle, and then glanced back over his shoulder. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Suna Rintarou.”

Osamu’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. “My brother’s nemesis,” he gasped in horror. And then he grinned. “Pleased to meet ya, Suna Rintarou. I’m a huge fan!”

“Really? You’ve read my articles.”

“Some of ‘em. But anyone who can wind my brother up so consistently is worth stannin’ in my book.”

He was still grinning as he mopped and then as he finished, he flipped his hair to the side (the opposite side to Atsumu’s) and something inside of Suna flipped too.

_Wow, he’s hot._

“I should change, too,” Osamu muttered, and with a quick look at the clock and the front door, he pulled off his polo shirt, bundled it up with the tablecloth and whipped back to the kitchen.

 _Aaaaand, he’s even hotter shirtless,_ Suna thought, admiring his back, wondering how he could have very different but equally visceral feelings towards twins. Identical, too.

“Except you’re the hot one.”

“Didja say somethin’, Suna-san?” Osamu asked as he reached up to a cupboard to get a new shirt.

 _Admiring the view,_ he wanted to say, letting his eyes assess Osamu’s torso before turning away. “Wondered if any of the food tonight would be hot.”

“It’s onigiri, so nope,” Osamu replied, and slipped the polo shirt over his head. “Shame, cuz I make a mean tonjiru, but then the café’s name is _Onigiri Miya_ , so I really should provide that.”

“Tonjiru.” Suna smacked his lips together and met Osamu’s eyes. “My favourite.”

He’d lied, and looking back Osamu had known that too, because he’d given his breathy chuckle, and then stared at him with his large wide eyes.

“Maybe I’ll make it for you someday, Suna-san.”

***

“About a quarter of an hour, I reckon,” Atsumu said, slowing to take a corner. “How ya doin’?”

“Fine.” He opened his eyes. “You do have our passports and tickets, yes?”

“Yeah, I ain’t a complete dumbass,” Atsumu muttered. “You were smilin’ there. Found somethin’ to distract you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Jeez, Suna, if you tell me your thinkin’ of my brother, I’ll ditch you at the side of the road.”

“I won’t tell you then,” Suna replied, with a smirk.

“Ughh!”

***

Osamu had served him tonjiru the following week. Despite being hellishly busy, they’d had a kind of date, with Suna dropping by late one night having spent the day fruitlessly chasing leads for a story, just as Onigiri Miya was closing.

“No, it’s fine,” Osamu had told his staff as they tried to wave Suna away. “He’s a friend. I’ll lock up.”

“A friend?” Suna queried when they were alone.

“Perhaps,” Osamu replied and pointed to a small pot on the stove. “Hey, did ya smell this or are ya psychic?”

“Hmm?”

“Tonjiru. There’s enough for two. Would ya care to join me?”

Oh, he’d cared to, all right. Accepting Osamu’s offer, he’d followed him up the stairs. They’d enjoyed a meal together, swapping anecdotes initially about their one commonality (Atsumu) before discovering a similar sense of humour, and a love for pastries.

Three days later, Suna had returned near to closing time, with a box of éclairs and wearing a new lilac shirt.

Osamu had smelled of chocolate and cream the first time they’d kissed, a small peck as Suna had left.

Five minutes later, Suna had returned, hammering on the door.

“You took me by surprise,” he mumbled, “and I didn’t kiss you back.”

Taking him by the hand Osamu dragged him back inside. His smile lopsided and a little wavering. “I thought I’d scared you off.”

He gathered Osamu in his arms, pressing him against a wall, to begin a lifetime of deep, impassioned kisses. “I’ve faced scarier people than you, Miya Osamu.”

“Have I?” he wondered, groaning as Atsumu came to a halt.

“Have you what?” Atsumu asked.

“Faced anything scarier,” he replied.

“You worried ‘bout those goons?” Atsumu stated. “They ain’t here now. We’ve got away and will be on the plane home very soon.”

“I didn’t mean—” His ribs jabbed at him again. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go home.”

***

Atsumu had managed to get hold of some stronger than usual pain killers, and with a slug of vodka and the absence of fight or flight adrenaline coursing through his veins, Suna slept for most of their flight to Doha. There was a ninety minute layover, one they spent in the check in lounge, a corner by themselves, Atsumu tearing into a stale sandwich he’d saved from the plane.

“Want some?” he offered. “It ain’t great, but it does the job.”

“I’m too spoiled by your brother’s food,” he replied.

Atsumu didn’t scowl or lash out. “Have you called him?”

“No phone, remember?” Sighing he tried to get comfortable on the hard plastic bench. “Can you message him? I don’t really want to talk right now.”

“Sure. What d’you want me to tell him?”

“Just say we’re on the way home.”

“He’ll want t’ know why you ain’t callin’.”

“Say I lost my phone. It’s true … sort of.” He frowned as Atsumu didn’t immediately start to text. “What are you waiting for?”

“Until we’re about to fly. That way, ‘Samu can’t interrogate me until we’ve landed.” He gestured towards Suna’s chest and face. “He’ll blame me for all of this.”

“I’ll put him straight.” He reached out, trying not to wince (although whether it was the pain or what he was about to do, Suna wasn’t sure) “Thank you, by the way.”

“It’s nuthin’,” Atsumu mumbled, but he didn’t immediately shake off Suna’s hand.

“You didn’t hesitate,” Suna said. “I’m grateful.”

“Hey, we’re partners and I’ve got yer back,” Atsumu replied, adding wryly, “Besides, ‘Samu woulda killed me if I’d returned you in a worse state.”

***

Suna put down his chopsticks, watching as Osamu cleared the plates, a set expression on his face. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“Nothin’ to say,” Osamu replied.

“Uh… okay. Bad day?”

“Good actually Takin’s are up, interviewed a girl who I hope will join us. Got a decent price from a new fish supplier.”

“That’s good … isn’t it?”

“I said it was good.”

“But you didn’t feel like sharing your good news with me.”

“Would you have been interested?”

Blinking, Suna got to his feet, joining Osamu at the sink, and slid his hands round his waist. “Of course I’m interested,” he murmured into his neck.

“Really?”

“Uh… yes.” He pulled away. “What’s this about?”

“What’s this about, he asks. I’ll tell you, shall I?”

“Please do. It’ll be fascinating learning what I’ve done wrong. Which line I’ve transgressed as all I can remember doing is answering your question ‘how was your day?’”

“Your day’s consisted of fightin’ with my brother and thinkin’ your hard done by, cuz of him. That’s all you’ve talked about tonight and …” He plunged his hands in the sink and began to scrub so hard at one of the bowls, Suna wondered if he’d scrub the pattern away. “Tell me somethin’, Rin, are ya with me to spite my brother, cuz you want to wind him up more?”

“No… NO! Of course not. Atsumu is … he’s a jerk, all right. He doesn’t want me working at the paper, and clearly thinks I’m after his job.”

“And you're not?”

“I’m after _a_ job, Osamu. A job. Not his job, particularly, but I want my fair share of stories and not the one’s your brother deems beneath him. I’m a good journalist.”

“So’s Atsumu.”

“I know! He’s … he’s brilliant, but that doesn’t mean I have to give up, does it?”

He watched Osamu’s shoulders slump, and when he lifted the bowl from the sink he placed it carefully in the rack. “No, of course not.”

“I’m not here to spite Atsumu,” Suna breathed. “Maybe I’m here despite him. I could ask you the same thing, though.”

“What?”

“Did you start this thing with us to spite your brother? You knew it would wind him up.”

“I was curious about you,” Osamu admitted, and turned around, leaning on the sink. “’Tsumu was adamant the new reporter was a jerk, and I hadn’t ever seen him so vehement ‘bout a rival, and then I met the jerk and …”

“What?”

“He’d not told me how hot you were.” He stared into his eyes. “I like you, Suna Rintarou. I like you a lot, but I can’t be in the middle of your battles with ‘Tsumu. I get he’s an asshole, and we fight all the time, but we’ve got each other’s backs.”

“But not mine?”

“I ain’t sure ya need anyone, Rin, but I’m there if ya do.”

***

The ten hour flight from Doha to Osaka was uncomfortable, painful and irritating because Atsumu not only slept but snored through it all. He was due another dose of painkillers but held off, deciding to take them after he’d landed. Getting up, he eased out of his seat and limped to the toilets. There he eased up his shirt, and gingerly touched his abdomen, sliding his hand up to his ribs as he faced the mirror.

If he looked carefully he could see the toe of the boots in purple relief on his skin, surrounded by blue. He’d been beaten up before, but not this badly. He’d broken a rib before at school playing sport. And while he wasn’t a medic he knew enough, and the sight of the bruises didn’t alarm as much as frustrate him. There wasn’t a lot he could do except swallow tablets, take it easy and continue to breathe.

It had been close, this time. Maybe too close. Yet there was a part of him that already knew, in the midst of the kicking he’d received, this was a part of the job and one he’d go through again for the right result.

And they’d got the right result. The pair of them working together.

At least Osamu would be pleased about that.

***

It wasn’t the smoothest of landings. Suna’s ribs protested as the plane bumped and bounced across the landing strip, and he couldn’t stop a yelp escaping from his lips. Atsumu frowned. “I knew we shoulda gone to the hospital. I’ll take ya to one now we’re back.”

“You need to get to Kita and Aran with the evidence.”

“You ain’t coming with me?” Atsumu blinked. “How d’you know I won’t claim this all as my own work.”

“For some reason I trust you, Miya.” He lolled back in the seat as the others around them stood up and began removing luggage from the overhead compartments. “A flying kick in a dark alley will do that.”

They separated at the airport, Atsumu taking a direct train straight to the newspaper office, while Suna hailed a cab, ostensibly to take him to the nearest hospital.

“Want me to tell ‘Samu where you're goin’?” Atsumu asked as he checked his messages. “He could pick you up.”

Shaking his head, Suna clutched his bag and case as he headed to the cab rank. “Tell him I’m with you and I’ll get in touch later.”

“You are goin’ to get that checked out, right?”

“Of course,” he lied.

Yet as he inched into the cab and swallowed down his next dose of pain killers, Suna pondered the semantics of his lie. He was getting his ribs checked out (he hoped) just not by a doctor.

Osamu opened his apartment back door with a huge grin on his face. “Hey!!! I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Ain’t you both s’posed to be in a meetin’ with Kita-san? Is ‘Tsumu with …” He trailed off as Suna stepped inside and into the light. “Holy shit what the fuck happened?”

“Argument with a goon’s boot,” Suna replied. “I’ll be okay.”

“Not jus’ the face though. You're clutchin’ your ribs.”

“Yeah, maybe cracked one. I’m good, honest. It’s happened before and I know I need to ride it out.”

“And ‘Tsumu? Why ain’t he with you?”

“He’s gone to see Kita and Aran. We’re looking to run the story now we have all the proof. And before you ask, he thinks I’m at the hospital.”

“You should be. I’ll take you now,” Osamu said, voice insistent and he took Suna’s hand.

“Please, no. It’s been a twenty-one hour flight, and what I need is an ice pack and to crash. I just … I wanted to see you.”

“Come here,” Osamu soothed, and went to hug him. “Sorry, where can I touch you where it won’t hurt?”

“Mouth’s fine,” Suna murmured, and reached across, cupping Osamu’s face in his hands.

They enjoyed a kiss, Suna leaning into Osamu. Less passionate, but more tender than usual, the result of days apart and the horror of what could have been. Then Osamu broke away and rested his arms on Suna’s shoulders. “I’ve made tonjiru. Are you hungry?”

“God, yes,” he sighed and leant back against the wall.

The food was hot in his mouth and as he swallowed a sense of calm began to take hold. Osamu was silent for a while, assiduously fetching him drinks and refilling his bowl, but near the end, when Suna figured he’d regained some semblance of his normal self, the questions began.

“No phone then? ‘Tsumu said you lost it.”

“Sort of. Lost implies an accident.”

“You deliberately left it somewhere?”

Taking a breath, and wincing at the way it scratched at his ribs, Suna stirred the rest of his food, before pushing the bowl away. “Atsumu was inside the building getting evidence. I was outside as lookout and decoy. What I assumed were security guards appeared, but instead of simply escorting me off the premises, they shoved me against the wall and demanded my phone.”

“So they have it?”

“Nope. I wasn’t going to hand it over. I couldn’t let them have access to contacts, photos, all that sort of thing, so I did what I thought best and threw it down a drain.” He smiled wryly and raised his glass of water to his lips. “I had this naive idea they’d leave me alone if there was nothing to be gained by thumping me.” He paused and sipped some water, wishing it were something stronger. “I was wrong.”

“And ‘Tsumu let you take a beatin’!” Osamu exclaimed, outraged. “Where’s my phone, I’ll fuckin’ let him have it!”

Suna reached out, pulled on his sleeve and reeled Osamu towards him. “Your brother might be the biggest jerk I know, but he’s also pretty amazing. He could have stayed where he was, could have hidden or run away—the story is the important thing here, after all—but he didn’t. He leapt out the window, and charged at them. Took one out with the sweetest punch I’ve ever seen and the other with a flying kick from across the alleyway.”

“Oh…” A smile tugged at Osamu’s morose face. “A flyin’ kick, you say.”

“Oh, yeah, like the most unorthodox karate ever, but fucking effective.”

Osamu laughed. “I taught him everythin’ he knows. Lifetime of growin’ up as a twin is there’s a constant companion and a constant enemy.” His fingertips graced Suna’s cheek, avoiding his swollen eye, and dipping down to his chin before he dusted a kiss on his temple. “I’ll fetch an icepack and then bed, okay?”

“Mmm, that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in days.” He caught Osamu’s hand, holding it to his lips. “When Atsumu was driving us to the airport, he told me to think of my happy place.”

“That sounds too spiritual for ‘Tsumu,” Osamu queried. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and kissed Osamu’s fingertips. “I thought of here,” he whispered. “I thought of you.”


End file.
